


Right at Home

by cmere



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Graduate School, Homework Buddies, Law School, Library meet cute, M/M, Misunderstandings, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24193960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmere/pseuds/cmere
Summary: “You’re a law student?”“Yeah. What about it?”“Don’t you have your own library?”“I can’t study there,” he says, dismissive. “Too many assholes.”“Interesting,” Henry says dryly. “I’d think you’d feel right at home.”-or-AU where Henry is a Ph.D student, Alex is a law student, and there's a lot of flirting, boys being stupid, a fake date, misunderstandings, and sexy times to top it all off.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 112
Kudos: 557
Collections: RWRB Spring Fling Exchange





	Right at Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hokay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hokay/gifts).



> [hokay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hokay/), your prompts of homework buddies and fake dating gave me a few too many ideas, so I went a little overboard. I really hope you like it!! <3
> 
> Massive thanks to [Len](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiterallyLen/), [RC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallycorking/), and [shes_gone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shes_gone/) for all the assistance brainstorming and whipping this fic into shape! I am so, so appreciative of you all! <3

“Excuse me?”

Henry’s head snaps up from the books and research articles he’s just starting to spread over the table. He’s taken aback when his eyes land on a man who’s so stunningly beautiful, it actually makes his heart stop for a second. His beauty isn’t even marred by the impressively angry glare crossing his magnificent features, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed as though Henry has personally wronged him. Which is impossible, since Henry would definitely remember having seen him before.

“Y—yes? Sorry, can I help you?”

“I had this table reserved,” he says, gesturing to the leather messenger bag Henry can now see peeking out from the seat across from him. It’s mostly obscured by the table, so he doesn’t think it’s unreasonable that he hadn’t noticed it. It is, however, close to midterms, and tables in the library are at a premium. Henry grimaces slightly.

“I apologize, I didn’t see your bag. I just—it was the only open table I saw,” he manages to respond, which he thinks is extremely impressive considering his salivary glands seem to have gone into overdrive. He can’t remember the last time merely _talking_ to a guy affected him like this.

“Yeah. It was the only open table I saw, too.” 

Henry finds himself on the receiving end of an even fiercer glare. He hadn’t realized it was possible that this person could look both more angry and more attractive, but seeing the muscles of his forearms shift as he crosses his arms over his broad chest sparks an embarrassing fantasy that Henry will never share nor discuss with anyone. Ever.

“Look. I’m going to say this really nicely because I’m in a generous mood. I was here first and I need the table more than you. I had dibs. So please vacate the area, sooner rather than later. I’ve already wasted enough time talking about this.”

“You had _dibs_?” Henry asks, incredulous. “Are you five years old? And how do you know you need the table more than I do? Maybe you shouldn’t have left it here _open_ to go blather with your mates if you needed it so badly.”

“I was not _blathering_. I was—you know what, it doesn’t matter. Can you just find somewhere else to study?”

“Why don’t we share the stupid table? There’s four chairs and two of us. You take half, I’ll take half.”

The Grecian god sighs dramatically, then flops into one of the open chairs. “Fucking _fine_. But you better stay on your half of the table.”

Henry purses his lips and makes a big show of ensuring all his journal articles don’t creep over the imaginary center line. He takes out his laptop and opens it up, distracted by the massive law textbooks piling up on the other side.

“You’re a law student?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Don’t you have your own library?”

“I can’t study there,” he says, dismissive. “Too many assholes.”

“Interesting,” Henry says dryly. “I’d think you’d feel right at home.”

Henry’s startled by the sound of the guy laughing loudly. Several nearby heads whip around and suddenly, they’re both being glared at.

“That was pretty funny, actually,” he says quietly, shoulders shaking in silent laughter. Henry watches with interest. His dark brown eyes positively light up when he laughs; it takes over his entire face. Henry grins.

“I’m Henry,” he manages to say, despite his heart fluttering stupidly and his throat going as dry as sandpaper in the desert.

“Alex.” He holds out his hand, and Henry shakes it. His grip is firm and warm; Henry goes embarrassingly tingly at his touch. “What program are you in?”

“I’m in the English Ph.D program.”

“Hence the British accent.”

“That’s not exactly relevant to my studies, but sure.”

“English. England. Seems relevant. Are you working on your dissertation yet?”

“No, I’m in my third year of classes. I’ll start next year.”

“Cool. I’m a second-year, so one more to go after this.”

“Oh, only three years for a law degree? You’ve got it easy,” Henry says. Alex shakes his head and laughs again. Henry distinctly feels a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck. “Are you enjoying it?”

“Aside from the ridiculous number of mediocre white jerks in my classes, sure. I’m just looking forward to being out there and practicing.” Alex’s eyes glint, as though daring Henry to take offense to hearing _mediocre white jerks_.

“What kind of law do you want to practice?”

“Civil rights.”

“Cool,” Henry says quietly, trying not to squirm. Alex is not only stunningly gorgeous, he’s also a socially aware soon-to-be civil rights lawyer. He’s easily the most attractive person Henry has met since he arrived in the U.S.

“Well, I better get to it.”

“Yeah, me too.” Henry clears his throat and pulls up an empty document on his computer. He finds himself staring at the blinking cursor for a minute before allowing his eyes to flick up. Alex already has three books open and spread far onto what should be Henry’s side of the table. His brow is furrowed again, this time in concentration. Henry watches him highlight something, then follows the journey of the highlighter to Alex’s mouth. It should be gross—who knows where that highlighter has been?—but Alex’s full lips form a perfect O around it as he sucks on the end, and Henry’s thoughts have definitely, officially ventured into dangerous territory. He forces his eyes back down to his blank document, but he already feels heat spreading over his cheeks.

—

“This seat taken?” Henry’s back at the library the following Thursday night, sitting at the same table on the third floor by the window. His heart catches in his throat when he looks up to see Alex’s beautiful face smiling at him.

“It’s available,” Henry manages to say, “but there’s a bunch of other tables open, too.” He gestures to the half-empty space around them. Now that midterms are over, the library has emptied out.

“Do you mind?” Alex asks, already sitting down and pulling his laptop out of his bag, making himself right at home. “It’s just, last week I was way more productive than I usually am. I think I felt more pressure to stay focused with someone watching me.”

Henry bites his lip to keep from smiling too big. “I wasn’t watching you.”

“You know what I mean.” Alex’s giant law texts slam down on the table. “Do you mind?”

“No,” Henry says, even though he had barely been able to focus on schoolwork at all with Alex sitting across from him. He resigns himself to another unproductive night. After a few minutes, though, once his pulse has returned to a normal resting rate, he succeeds in pulling his focus away from the perfect specimen seated not one meter away from him and digs into his book. He’s so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even notice Alex has stood up until he speaks.

“Henry?”

“Oh, sorry, did you say something?”

“I’m going to grab coffee from downstairs, do you want anything?”

“Erm. Black tea, please. With milk and sugar. Thanks. I have cash—”

Alex waves his hand. “Don’t worry about it. You can get it next time.”

Henry’s heart clenches at the words _next time_ ; Alex has already walked away.

It becomes a thing, then: Thursday nights at 9 P.M., Henry wraps up his night class and heads to the library. Sometimes Alex is already there, at the table on the third floor, and sometimes Henry gets there first. Either way, they fall into an easy rhythm together, one that feels comfortable and familiar before Henry has a chance to analyze it. He gets used to hearing Alex’s stories about the jerks in his classes. Henry tentatively shares his own about the overly pretentious idiots in his Ph.D. program, always looking around to make sure he doesn’t recognize anyone in their periphery. The library pretty much empties out by the time it closes at midnight, and Alex and Henry are generally the only two left on the floor, packing up their bags and walking down the stairs together. They part ways there, with Alex heading left and Henry going right. He’s never asked where Alex lives; it feels inappropriate. But his heart always soars when he sees Alex back the next week.

They take turns buying each other drinks at the little coffee shop on the first floor. Henry learns that Alex usually gets himself black coffee out of some utilitarian need not to overindulge, but Alex lets slip one night that he actually loves the overly sugary and sweet drinks most. So Henry surprises him next time with a large caramel macchiato, whipped cream on top. After insisting how completely unnecessary it was and grumbling out a thanks, Alex spends the next twenty minutes torturing Henry by dragging his finger through the whipped cream and sucking it off. Henry starts to fear that his utter lack of productivity, along with his blush, are going to become permanent.

— 

“Why did you come to the U.S.?”

Alex’s question comes randomly one night. Henry blinks, exerting significant effort to pull himself out of the reading he was absorbed in. “For school.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Obviously. But why come here for school instead of going in England?”

Henry pauses, considering. “I needed a change.”

Alex raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Okay. I can see your conversational skills are back to their usual level of pathetic. Forget I asked.”

“No, no,” Henry says, laughing despite himself. “I just didn’t want to bore you with my whole life story.”

“Trust me. Even you can’t get more boring than my fucking reading.”

“Thanks a lot,” Henry says, grinning. “No, I think...I needed a change, because…” He pauses again, swallowing over the lump that’s suddenly appeared in his throat. “My dad died right when I was finishing A-levels. And I went straight to uni but I didn’t really have any drive, or motivation. I didn’t really care what happened to me. My older brother is kind of the perfect son, and my dad’s death didn’t seem to affect him at all, and I’ve always compared myself to him, never was able to live up to his expectations. So I just kind of floated through, letting things happen to me and letting people decide things for me. My classes, my friends, my hobbies. None of it ever felt right, but I couldn’t bring myself to change anything.”

Alex is watching Henry carefully, and Henry starts to feel panicked that he’s saying too much, but he’s already in too deep. He takes a shaky breath and plows on.

“So once I left uni and started thinking about graduate school, I had to make a choice if I was going to do it for me, or for my brother and grandmother and everyone who wanted me to be someone I wasn’t. I knew I would deal with a lot of backlash, but I decided to pursue a doctorate in English, and I knew I would never really escape all the pressure and expectations unless I went far, far away. And as scary as it was to do something for myself after all that time, I was finally ready. So I started looking at universities in America, and here I am.”

Alex doesn’t say anything for a long moment, still leveling him with an inscrutable gaze. Worry unfurls in Henry’s stomach. His and Alex’s entire relationship is predicated on trading insults and complaining about their classmates; he can’t believe he just said a whole host of things he’s never said out loud to anyone before. He feels a sudden, powerful need to break the silence.

“I’m sorry—”

“For what? I fucking asked, didn’t I?” Alex glares at him, but with no real feeling. “I’m sorry about your dad. It sounds like you were just coping the only way you could, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You made the decision to come here on your own, and you’re taking back control of your life. That’s really fucking admirable.”

Henry stares at him helplessly. “I—thank you.”

“I can understand pressure from family. Sometimes I wonder if this law degree is for me or for them. Following in their footsteps and everything.” Alex sighs and looks down at where he’s drumming his fingers on the table.

“But you seem so—committed. You have, like, the next ten years of your life planned out. You said you’ve always known this is what you wanted to do.”

“That’s my problem, I’m always thinking ten years ahead. Everything I do is to reach some imaginary future point where I’ll have this or I’ll be that or people will see me in a certain way. Sometimes I think I’ll blink and my life will be almost over and I never stopped to just be in the present. But then I think, if I’m not using the present to work toward something, I’m just wasting my life.”

“It sounds like the pressure might be coming more from yourself than your family.” Henry’s pulse is racing; this is the most real thing Alex has ever said to him, and he desperately wants to get his response right. 

“Yeah. I guess so.” Alex rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Well, I haven’t known you very long, but I can see that you’re someone who always has and always will make things happen for yourself. I think _that’s_ admirable.” _And attractive_ , Henry thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Thanks,” Alex mutters, then looks up to meet Henry’s eye again. “Can we go back to me making fun of your love for Jane Austen now?”

“Just remember that you started this,” Henry says, relieved. “But yes, please. I’d love to see what kind of creative insults you can come up with for me tonight.”

—

A week later, Alex comes in looking dour. It’s unusual; even after a three hour night class, he tends to have a sparkle in his eye and a mischievous grin as he recounts some story or another about Troy or Brent or Justin making a fool of themselves again while he unpacks his things. He barely meets Henry’s eye as he throws himself into the chair across from him with a huff, then sits slouched with his arms across his chest.

“Everything okay?” Henry asks tentatively. He pointedly does not analyze his personal level of concern about Alex’s apparent bad mood. Alex blows the curls up off his forehead before rolling his eyes and answering. 

“My ex-girlfriend is pissing me off. It’s nothing.”

_Ex-girlfriend_. The word sinks into Henry like a weight.

He had already assumed Alex was straight. He wears chinos as a fashion statement, and he’s talked about his fraternity brothers and playing lacrosse at his undergraduate university. Something about having it confirmed, though, makes Henry realize how much he had been hoping to hear something different. He feels utterly deflated.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say, blinking. 

“It’s fine, it’s nothing,” Alex says, then runs his hands through his hair. “It’s just—she’s dating my sister.”

“O—oh,” Henry says, because he’s not sure what else to say. If Alex ends up being homophobic on top of straight, that’s going to be a whole new issue.

“I already knew she was bi, it’s not that. I just thought she’d fucking ask me before she started dating _my sister_ , and now I find out they’ve been sneaking around for three months behind my back.”

Henry feels marginally better. “That’s not cool. She should have talked to you about it, at least.”

“Right?” Alex perks up, and Henry suddenly feels a _lot_ better. “It’s fine, though. It’s whatever. What’s going on with you?”

“Oh, same old,” Henry says vaguely. “Classes, hanging out with David. Oh! I tried a new English breakfast tea and I really liked it.”

“That’s great, you nerd,” Alex says with a genuine smile. Henry can’t help smiling back. “No relationship drama on your end?”

Henry laughs. “My ex is in most of my classes, so I had to figure out how to deal with that pretty quick. It’s mostly fine, now. Just a bit awkward occasionally.”

“Is your ex in the same program as you?”

“Yeah, we’re in the same cohort. We hit it off and started dating around the end of our first year. It probably wasn’t the best idea, but. Y’know.”

Alex levels him with a look. “Why didn’t it work out?”

“We were just...too similar. The same neuroses, the same communication issues. It’s good to have things in common until it means that you’re both avoiding each other for too long after a stupid fight because you’re afraid of confrontation unless it has to do with 18th century British literature. There has to be someone willing to break the silence.” The words escape Henry’s mouth before he can think about it, and he tries not to cringe. “And now you know more about my neuroses and communication issues than you probably wanted to.”

Alex snorts. “You say that like your issues haven’t been obvious since the first time we talked. How long were you together?”

Henry glares at him, but he’s trying not to smile. “A little over a year. We broke up just before fall semester started.”

“That’s rough.” Alex gives him a sympathetic half-smile, the corner of his mouth quirked up. Henry thinks about what it would be like to lean across the table and kiss him there, then quickly and thoroughly berates himself for even allowing his mind to go there after finding out Alex is straight.

He’s twenty-five fucking years old. He thought he was past the point in life where he fell for straight guys.

“Are you going to study?” Henry asks. Alex still has all his things in his bag, eyes on Henry across the table.

“Probably not,” Alex says, then stretches his arms above his head. “I’m too distracted. I’m just gonna chill.” He pulls out his phone and starts flicking his thumb across the screen.

“Okay,” Henry says, then swallows. “You don’t have to—I mean, if you want to just go home, or whatever. That’s fine.” They’ve been meeting at the library every Thursday night for seven weeks now. It makes sense that it wouldn’t just go on forever.

“I don’t want to go home,” Alex tells him. He looks up and locks his eyes on Henry’s again. Henry looks back at him, at the dark hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, at his warm brown eyes and the lazy smirk across his lips. He’s so beautiful it hurts.

“Okay,” Henry says, forcing himself to break the eye contact. He tries to focus on the paper he needs to work on, but finds himself just reading the same words over and over again. He can feel Alex’s leg jiggling under the table, centimeters away from his own. He feels like he’s holding his breath, but somehow, his body is making sure he breathes anyway.

—

The following Thursday, Henry finds Alex at their table in the library and doesn’t realize until it’s too late how his body language is mirroring Alex’s from the previous week—right down to the crossed arms and huff escaping him as he collapses into his chair. Alex responds with a single raised eyebrow and nothing else. It infuriates Henry how much this tiny gesture makes him immediately want to tell Alex everything.

“So, do you remember how we were talking about our exes last week?”

“Yep.”

“Mine is in my Thursday night class, and I might—I might have fucked up.” Hot panic fills Henry’s chest and threatens to overtake him as it starts to sink in what, exactly, he’s done, and what he has to say—out loud—to Alex right now.

“Fucked up how?” Alex looks intrigued, bordering on excited. It’s frankly disturbing.

“I—I think—honestly, it’s nothing. I just—I’ll just say...it’s nothing. It’s fine.” Telling Clay the truth will be humiliating, but at least he won’t have to look Alex in the eye while he begs him to go along with a _lie_.

“Henry.” Alex’s gaze catches and holds him; Henry can’t bring himself to look away, no matter how stupid he feels or how obviously the flush is spreading across his cheeks. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I did something really stupid,” Henry admits, his heart throbbing in his wrists, his chest, his neck as the anxiety builds back up. Alex folds his hands and leans across the table expectantly, waiting for him to go on. Henry’s nerves momentarily war over what’s scarier: telling Alex what he did or coming out to him. “Clay...that’s my ex-boyfriend...he pulled me aside after class tonight. He said he’s been seeing me in the library with this guy on Thursday nights, and wanted to know if we were...dating. I was going to clear things up, but he just assumed, and went on to say he’s so happy I’ve found someone because he’s found someone, too.” Henry coughs. “We have a big dissertation proposal presentation thing coming up in a couple weeks, with a reception after, and everyone’s bringing their husbands and wives and partners and whatever. After he monologued about everything, he said he’s bringing his new boyfriend, and he asked if I was bringing you. I…” Henry trails off, looking over Alex’s shoulder at the wall. His heart feels stuck in his throat. “In a moment of weakness, I said yes, because I didn’t want to admit that I didn’t actually have someone when he did. It was pathetic, and I fully regret it. I’m going to tell him we’re not actually together, and I’m also going to pretend this conversation never happened between us.” 

Henry puts his head in his hands. He can’t remember ever feeling so fucking humiliated. His face is burning hot and sweat is dripping slowly down the side of his neck. He’s never going to see Alex again after tonight.

Maybe that’s for the best.

All of a sudden, he feels something touch his hair, and he jerks up with a start.

“Sorry,” Alex says, quickly withdrawing his hand. “I was just...why don’t I just go with you? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Henry stares at him. “You’d have to pretend to be my boyfriend. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Why not?”

“It’s absurd. You’re...we’re...it’s stupid. I should just tell him the truth. I’m an adult.”

“It is stupid, but I can understand wanting to show up an ex,” Alex says, shrugging. “Especially one that sounds like as much of a jackass as yours. And I don’t know what Clay looks like, but I’m pretty hot. I think I’d make a good revenge date.”

“Think that highly of yourself, do you?”

“What, do you disagree?” Alex waggles his eyebrows, then lets out a laugh. Henry forces himself to laugh too, trying to cover up the panic that’s starting to seize at his chest again.

“Seriously...I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering. When’s this dissertation proposal presentation reception thing? I assume it’s business formal?”

“It’s Friday the 22nd.” Henry tries to dislodge the lump in his throat. “The presentations start at five. It’s going to be terribly boring.”

“I’ll survive. One condition, though.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to wear a polka dot bowtie.” Alex sits back with a self-satisfied grin. Despite his overwhelming embarrassment and shame, Henry feels the corners of his mouth turn up to match it.

“Fine,” Henry says. Everything within him is screaming that this is a terrible idea, but he can’t summon the strength to stop it. “It’s a deal.”

—

Henry is too busy with his impending finals to dwell much on his agreement with Alex. His legs carry him to the library the next week almost automatically, but the dread that slowly builds on his walk there dissipates when Alex appears, greets him with a cup of tea and a quick, genuine smile, and then disappears into his textbooks and ignores Henry for the next three hours. They’re both buried in work. Henry finds that Alex’s companionable but quiet presence across from him helps calm him enough to focus. It’s unexpected, but nice.

The library is open twenty-four hours at finals time, so they work until close to three in the morning, when Henry stretches his hands over his head and yawns.

“You done for the night?” Alex asks, emerging from behind his computer with a slightly manic look to his eye.

“Yeah, think I’ll head home and try to get some sleep. Are you…?”

“I’m going to stay,” Alex says.

“Well, don’t stay up all night,” Henry says, absent-mindedly packing up his books and papers.

“I’m going to let you in on a little secret. People who know me know that when I get like this, sleep is not an option. I have to work until I’m done.”

Henry’s mouth drops open a little. “That’s ridiculous. You need to take breaks and rest and eat regular meals.”

Alex shakes his head. “Better men than you have already tried. It’s just how I am.”

“What are you implying about what kind of a man I am?” Henry says, indignant but cheerful. He feels loopy, silly, late-night caffeine and lack of sleep and hours of intense focus catching up to him.

“I wasn’t trying to imply anything. I thought I made my point perfectly.” Alex looks tired but clearer-eyed than a minute ago, good-natured and affable.

Henry laughs. “I see how it is. Well, I should tell you that tonight was my last Thursday class, so I won’t be on campus next week. I’ll probably just stay home to practice my presentation.”

“Right,” Alex says. “Next Friday at five?”

“Yeah. I can pick you up, if you want. So you don’t have to worry about getting there and not knowing anyone.”

“Cool.”

“Four-thirty okay? I guess—I guess I’ll need your address. Maybe I should get your number, too, in case something comes up.”

Alex blinks several times. “Yeah. Why don’t I give you my number and you can text me? Then I’ll send you my address.”

They exchange information, then Henry stands up, feeling suddenly awkward. “It’s not too late to back out, you know.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t wait to see the look on your ex’s face when he sees me in a suit.”

—

Henry’s anxiety is at an all-time high on Friday afternoon, manifesting in nervous pacing and a painfully chewed lip. David keeps skittering tentatively around him as though he’s not sure whether to approach for comfort or retreat for safety. Henry practices his talk over and over, full of regret that for some reason, he decided to add a completely unnecessary additional layer of anxiety to the biggest presentation of his life: Alex.

At four P.M., Henry’s phone beeps with a text message. He picks it up expecting it to be Bea or Pez or his mom wishing him luck, but instead it’s from Alex: a selfie of him in a full-length mirror, wearing a dark, fitted suit with a narrow tie. His hair looks different somehow—maybe he’s put some kind of styling gel in it—and the smirk on his face is unfairly attractive. Henry unconsciously bites his lip again, then winces. 

He just has to get through his presentation. He can deal with all these other feelings later.

Henry pulls up in front of Alex’s fourplex at 4:25 P.M. and messages that he’s there. Alex appears immediately, and even though Henry had a preview, the actual sight of him is almost blinding in its beauty. His strides over to Henry’s car with a wide, easy smile and all the confidence of someone who knows exactly what they look like.

“Hi,” he says when he gets in the car, eyes on Henry as he buckles his seatbelt. 

“Hi,” Henry says, taking a slow, deep breath before easing the car into drive.

“Your bowtie,” Alex says, grin going even wider, “is perfect.”

“Thank you. Some git forced me to wear it for some stupid reason.” Henry managed to find one with rainbow polka dots. He’s actually pretty pleased with it.

“You look like a mess otherwise,” Alex says, not unkindly but not especially helpfully. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I hate public speaking. I’m honestly just trying to get through the next couple of hours.”

“At least let me fix your hair before we go in.”

“Fine.” Henry cuts his eyes over to Alex while he drives to find Alex still looking at him, grinning. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just...you clean up nice.”

Henry coughs. Alex is not helping him focus on his presentation.

When they arrive, Alex pats down Henry’s hair until he looks satisfied while Henry stands uncomfortably, trying to avoid eye contact. Inside, the room is set up with round banquet tables; Henry beelines for one in the back, only remembering at the last second to pull Alex’s chair out for him before he sits down. He shuffles through his notes, not really reading them but not willing to make small talk with anyone either. Thankfully, Alex seems to pick up on his mood and stays quiet at his side.

A few minutes before five, Henry is interrupted with a hand on his shoulder.

“Henry! You ready for this? I want to introduce you to my boyfriend, Luke.” Clay’s voice is at once achingly familiar and bitingly unpleasant. Henry looks up reluctantly only to see them take the open seats next to him, Clay’s signature scarf tossed over his shoulder. His pulse quickens.

“Nice to meet you,” Henry says automatically, holding out his hand. 

“I’m Alex,” Alex cuts in, also holding out his hand. “You must be Clay.”

“Heard about me? Only good things, I hope.” Clay smirks. Henry wants to punch him, but settles for making fists in his lap under the table instead. He’s startled by the feel of Alex’s hand sliding across his shoulders.

“Sure,” Alex says in a way that indicates anything but, while also implying it’s not open for further discussion. The air surrounding them suddenly feels charged with tension.

“So how did you two meet?” Clay asks, sneering a little. Henry’s brain promptly shorts out. He thought about this; he knew this would be asked. He had an answer prepared, but— 

“It’s a great story,” Alex says, squeezing Henry’s arm. Henry looks at him, trying to keep the surprise off his face, and only then notices how close Alex is to him, arm wrapped snugly around his shoulders. He can smell Alex’s cologne and something minty and clean underneath it. Alex’s face is lit up like he’s in his element, like he was just waiting for someone to ask him this question. “It was midterms. I can’t study for shit in my apartment, so I went to the library after my night class, looking for a quiet spot. First floor, nothing. Second floor, nothing. I make it up to the third floor, and there’s one single table open, so I basically sprint over to it and drop my bag off to claim it. Well, I go to the bathroom and on my way back, I run into a few friends. By the time I get over there again, this jerk is sitting at my table, papers and books and everything spread out all over it. Like, totally taken over.”

Alex pauses here and laughs, and Henry’s surprised when Clay and Luke laugh, too. He forces a smile onto his face, his heart thudding.

“So I’m like, excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing? My bag has been there all this time. And of course, it’s Henry, so he’s a total stubborn ass and picks a fight with me over the stupid table. I’m not blind, so I’m like, this guy is fucking gorgeous. But I found the table first, so it was the principle of the thing.”

“Your bag was tucked onto a chair practically under the table,” Henry interrupts, pleasant warmth washing over him at Alex calling him gorgeous. _It’s only for show_ , he reminds himself. “No normal person would have seen it there. And you were gone for, like, twenty minutes. I had no idea the table had been claimed.”

“So finally, we agree to just share,” Alex continues as though Henry hasn’t spoken, except for the slight squeeze he gives the back of Henry’s neck. It sends shivers down his spine. “And Henry makes some kind of joke about me being an asshole. I can’t remember what it was, but it was actually funny. So I’m like, great. Hot and funny. We start talking, and I find out he’s in a Ph.D program, so smart, too. And I should have asked for his number right then, but I was just...nervous.” Alex blows the hair up off his forehead, shaking his head slowly. Henry is totally entranced by the story he’s weaving. He almost can’t believe it’s been mostly true until this point. “So we talked that night, and I totally regretted not asking him out, and I came back the next week at the same time hoping I’d find him again. And there he was, same time, same table. It felt like fate, you know? So I make up some story about how much more work I got done when we were sitting together, even though I hadn’t managed to do a damn thing because I kept getting distracted looking at his cute face when he’s all concentrating and reading and thinking. And he let me buy him a cup of tea, and the rest is history, I guess.” Alex leans back in his chair, positively glowing. Henry has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wants to kiss him right now.

Before Clay can respond, the professor calls for everyone’s attention to start the program. With a jolt, Henry remembers he still has to give a presentation that night. Alex’s story had totally distracted him. It was so real and so believable and so close to the truth that Henry had almost believed it himself. As the professor drones on, he reminds himself that Alex is, in fact, straight, that Alex is not actually his boyfriend, and that he just needs to get through this evening so he can spend the rest of the summer getting over this stupid crush. Alex’s arm is still loose around his shoulders, a warm and steady presence at his side.

Henry’s presentation goes well—better than well, actually. The endless time spent rehearsing and the obsessive knowledge of every single one of his sources pays off, and he collapses in his chair after, nervous tension draining out of him. Alex immediately presses up against him in a hug and says in his ear, just for him, “That was incredible.” Henry lets himself drop his forehead into Alex’s neck, suppressing the quiver that’s threatening to take over his body at the relief that it’s over and the overwhelming feeling of Alex against his skin.

They sit through the rest of the presentations; Henry barely hears a word. He already knows everything about his classmates’ research. At some point, Alex reaches over and laces their fingers together on top of Henry’s bouncing knee. Henry’s body calms, and his mind goes blissfully blank.

The last thing Henry wants to do after it’s over is stick around for the reception and socialize, but he knows it’s expected of him. Alex seems to pick up on it and works the room for him, taking the lead on small talk and asking questions that show he actually was listening during the presentations while Henry pretends to look interested by his side. At some point, they find themselves alone, so Henry drags him to the buffet and loads up a plate of hors d'oeuvres. 

“You doing okay?” Alex murmurs, bumping their hips together. 

“I should be asking you that,” Henry says ruefully. He’s totally neglected his fake date all night. In fact, Alex has been going above and beyond expending the emotional energy that Henry simply doesn’t have left to give.

“I’m having a great time. I don’t usually get to meet these types of nerds. Your kind is a whole other species.” Alex smiles at him, and Henry can’t help but smile back.

“I owe you a beer or twenty when this is over.”

“Hey,” Alex says, setting down his plate. He takes Henry’s out of his hands and sets it down, too. Then, before Henry knows it, Alex’s hands are on his face, cradling his jaw, and he’s tilting his head up to meet Henry’s mouth in a kiss.

Henry’s not expecting it, so he acts on reflex and simply kisses Alex back. It’s a chaste kiss, soft and gentle and everything Henry wants in that moment. The ache in his chest starts almost immediately and intensifies when Alex pulls back, searching his eyes wordlessly. Henry blinks, trying to let his mind catch up to what his body just experienced. He’s sure Alex only kissed him to prove a point to Clay, who’s probably hovering nearby, but he can’t bring himself to look. Not when Alex’s glimmering brown eyes are looking up at him like they can see into his fucking soul.

Oh, god. Henry realizes, far too late, that he’s in way too deep.

“Do you want to stay much longer?” Alex asks, popping a cube of cheese into his mouth. Henry blinks some more.

“I—no, we can probably leave in fifteen minutes or so.”

“We can stay as long as you want. I was just curious.”

“I’d really like to get out of here.” Henry smiles grimly. Alex brushes a thumb over his cheek before leading them back towards the crowd.

Half an hour later, after some extensive goodbyes, Henry and Alex escape into the cool night air and back to Henry’s car. Henry climbs in behind the wheel, then promptly drops his head onto his arms on top of it. Alex laughs as he settles next to him, and Henry groans in response.

“Hey,” Alex says softly. Henry tenses slightly when he feels a hand on the back of his neck, then relaxes at the sensation of gentle kneading. “You did it. You did fucking amazing.”

Henry can’t bring himself to look up; he’s not ready to face Alex now that it’s just the two of them. Alex keeps up the steady pressure of his fingers massaging Henry’s neck.

“It’s over,” Henry mumbles into his arms. “You don’t have to keep pretending to be my boyfriend.” Alex’s hand pauses for a second, then resumes.

“I’m not doing anything I don’t want to.” Alex moves his fingers into Henry’s hair, rubbing the base of his skull. Henry lets out a quiet, pathetic moan at how good it feels. After a moment, Alex continues, “I mean it. You were the best one there. And it wasn’t just the British accent. I’m actually very discerning about presentations.”

“I bet you are,” Henry replies. He receives a soft smack on the back of his head before the massage continues. “Sorry. I should just get you home so I can go mope in peace.”

He summons his strength to sit up straight. Alex lets his hand fall back down to Henry’s neck and leaves it resting there lightly. It stays there as Henry puts the car into drive and eases his way back onto the road. It stays there as they coast down quiet streets on the residential drive back to Alex’s apartment. It stays there even as Henry pulls up to Alex’s building and puts the car into park.

“I’ll walk you up,” Henry says, all too aware of the way his heart’s rhythm has changed since they left campus, becoming more erratic and heavy with every second Alex’s hand lingered on the back of his neck. Alex finally drops it and reaches for the car door, and Henry takes a second to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants before doing the same.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Henry continues as they head up the walkway side by side. “I know it was...weird...and you were so cool about everything, and, well. I don’t think I’ve ever met a straight guy who would be so cool about something like this. But it made me feel a lot better to have you there, with my family and friends mostly in England, so. I know this was stupid and probably a huge waste of your time, but really, thank you.”

Trying not to cringe, Henry forces himself to cease rambling. They’ve reached the front door, and Henry is suddenly aware that Alex is looking at him. He looks back to see a half-bemused, half-annoyed expression on Alex’s face.

“When did you decide I was straight?” Alex asks. His eye contact is so intense and pointed that Henry feels locked into it.

“Er—you mentioned your ex-girlfriend, and I just assumed—”

“Assumed that if I dated girls there’s no way I could be anything but one hundred percent heterosexual?”

“Erm.” Now that Alex says it, it sounds disgustingly heteronormative, but the damage has already been done. “Yes?”

“I’m bisexual,” Alex says, one eyebrow raised, his face getting closer and closer to Henry’s in an accusatory way. “Was that not obvious?”

“It wasn’t,” Henry says, his head spinning, trying to stay present in the conversation even with everything he knows about Alex rearranging itself in his mind.

“So kissing you wasn’t obvious enough? What do I need to do, get the fucking bi flag tattooed on my forehead?” Alex looks like he’s ready to throttle Henry; Henry’s still trying to catch up.

“I thought you—just did that because of Clay. Trying to make Clay jealous,” Henry clarifies. 

“Henry,” Alex says. His fingers come to rest on Henry’s biceps and dig in. Hard. “I don’t even know where Clay was when we kissed. I don’t think anyone was paying any attention to us. I sure as fuck wasn’t paying attention to anyone but you.”

“What are you trying to say?” Henry says weakly.

“How is it possible,” Alex says, sounding exasperated but fond, “for someone to be so smart, and at the same time, _so stupid_?” He shifts closer into Henry’s personal space, then tilts his head up, just like he did at the reception. This time, though, he hovers a breath away from Henry’s lips, and Henry’s anxiety multiplies with every fraction of a second that passes, his heart pounding and his hands shaking and his stomach shredding itself. He does the only thing he can, the only thing that feels right—he leans down and presses his lips to Alex’s.

Like a reflex, Alex embraces him immediately, arms curving around his back and pulling him close. Alex’s mouth opens under his so readily that it feels inevitable. Henry briefly, deliriously wonders if he’s hallucinating from the stress, but the solid feel of Alex’s body against his, Alex’s fingers digging into his spine, Alex’s tongue slipping into his mouth all serve as evidence that it’s actually happening. 

They kiss and kiss in front of Alex’s door until Alex pulls back, panting, and says, “Come in?”

Henry jerks his head in agreement, and Alex drags him inside and into his apartment. Then he throws Henry up against the door, sliding a thigh between Henry’s legs and pressing into him with all the heat and hunger that Henry told himself not to feel. Henry moans, partially in pleasure and partially in disbelief. Henry’s wanted and wanted this whole time, but he’s never believed for a second that that wanting could turn into the thick air of desire surrounding them, into Alex rutting against him and tonguing him hot and deep.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” Alex manages to say against Henry’s mouth, then turns his attention to Henry’s neck, licking and sucking at every little spot he can find that makes Henry gasp. “That’s fucking biphobic, you know?”

“I know,” Henry groans. The feel of Alex’s curls under his fingers is the start to every fantasy he’s had over the last eight weeks. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“You better be fucking sorry,” Alex mouths against his neck and pulls Henry’s shirt up out of his pants. He palms Henry’s bare stomach and Henry’s entire body shudders. “If you weren’t so goddamn hot giving your presentation, I’d be chewing you a new one right now.”

“Hot?” Henry gasps and grinds into Alex’s thigh. Alex gives it right back, rolling his hips and meeting Henry at the core of where their bodies come together. 

“You’re so fucking _smart_.” Alex pulls Henry’s shirt up and drops to his knees to mouth along Henry’s waistband. Every hair on Henry’s body stands on end. “Fucking masculinities, sexuality, and queerness in Austen’s comprehensive works. Jesus _Christ_.” Alex tugs hard at Henry’s belt. Henry tears himself out of his suit jacket, overwhelmingly hot and constrained by the thick fabric, and drops it on the floor. His head falls back against the door when Alex pulls his trousers and boxers down in one fell swoop.

“Is that…” Henry pants, looking down at Alex on his knees with wide, disbelieving eyes, “...something you’re into?”

“Let me show you how I feel about it,” Alex says, then furrows his brow in concentration and licks a stripe up the underside of Henry’s cock before taking it in his mouth. Henry’s fist slams back against the door at the sudden intensity of pleasure pooling in his groin.

“Fuck,” Henry groans. He pushes his hands against his own forehead to keep from grabbing the back of Alex’s head. “Alex. _Fuck_.”

Alex looks up at him, eyelashes fluttering prettily as he hollows out his cheeks. Alex was already the most incredibly beautiful person Henry had ever seen up close; the sight of this brings him to another dimension entirely. 

Alex’s hands curl around the back of Henry’s thighs. Henry’s skin there is so tender, touched so infrequently, that he almost collapses from the shivers of pleasure that reverberate through him. Alex trails his fingers, feather-light, up and down as he sucks Henry in, and Henry grips the wall behind him, trying to stay up on trembling legs. It’s too good, too intense, too fast. Henry groans as Alex’s tongue pulses against him and he fights, desperately, to get a hold of himself. Alex wrapping a hot palm around his cock and stroking doesn’t make it any easier.

“Are you—ah—trying to get me off as— _fuck_ —fast as you can? Because if so, it’s working,” Henry says between gasps.

“Mmmm,” Alex says around him, and Henry’s entire body jerks.

“Or just trying— _oh_ —to prove you’re not straight? Because I...believe you...” Henry finishes, breathy and weak. Alex actually pulls off at this and glares up at him.

“Do you want this blowjob or not?”

“I do,” Henry says, embarrassingly whiny and high-pitched. He can feel the sweat prickling on his forehead, can hear his own harsh breaths and the desperation in his voice; it makes him feel even more out of control.

“I have a better idea,” Alex says with a mischievous smirk. He turns his attention to Henry’s feet and unlaces his shoes, leaving Henry feeling exposed and self-conscious.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting rid of superfluous items.” Alex tugs one shoe off Henry’s foot, then his sock, and repeats with the other. “Come on.” He gestures for Henry to step out of his pants, so he does, left in his button-down and rainbow polka dot bowtie. Alex gets to his feet and presses up against Henry again, kissing him with lots of tongue while he hooks his fingers in Henry’s collar. Henry moans into his mouth, his senses heightened from arousal, every touch more intense. 

“I kept imagining ripping this off of you,” Alex murmurs, viciously pulling the bowtie open with deft fingers and dropping it to the floor.

“Oh,” Henry says. “Is that why you...wanted me to wear it?” Alex nips at Henry’s lip before kissing him again, then pulls back and takes his hand.

“Come on,” Alex says, pulling Henry into the apartment. It’s clearly older, with creaky wood floors and warped windows, but it’s beautiful, Henry thinks. He doesn’t get much of a tour; Alex takes him directly to the bedroom and shoves him back on the bed.

“What did you have in mind?” Henry says, half-naked, a furious internal debate taking place over whether he should try to cover up or give it up as a lost cause. Alex loosens his own tie and pulls it over his head, quickly slipping out of his jacket as well.

“Tell me if I’m off here,” Alex says, pausing to direct his full attention to Henry, eyes dark and intense, “but you give me major top energy.”

Henry exerts all of his self-control to keep his eyes from bugging out of his head. Alex’s fingers work skillfully to undo the buttons on his own shirt. Henry can’t believe that not a half hour ago, he thought Alex was straight.

“I, er, tend to prefer it the other way round, actually,” Henry admits. 

“That’s cool.” Alex gazes at him, eyes gleaming. “I’m good either way.”

“So you want to—”

“Yes. Definitely. If you do.”

“I...do. Very much so.”

The look that crosses Alex’s face can only be described as fond. Henry doesn’t know what to do with it.

“Great.” Alex tosses his shirt to the side. The first glance at his chest has Henry’s mouth watering, miles of dark skin over hard muscle that Henry aches to touch. He turns his attention to his own shirt instead, not wanting to waste any more time, and succeeds in getting himself completely naked by the time Alex gets his pants off and climbs into the bed on top of him. He kisses Henry hard. Henry groans at the feel of Alex pressing into him, at finally feeling the bare skin on Alex’s sides and over his back. He’s moving on pure physical instinct now, not letting himself think too hard or second-guess anything. He wants Alex, and Alex wants him. He can _feel_ it.

“How do you want to do this?” Alex murmurs.

Henry sucks at Alex’s lower lip and wraps his legs around Alex’s waist, hooking his ankles together behind Alex’s back. “This is perfect.”

Alex smiles against his lips. Henry can feel Alex’s cock pressing into his stomach; Alex grinds down slow and hard, hips and chest and thighs and mouth against Henry’s, and it feels so fucking good. Alex’s hands press Henry’s arms over his head, push up, _up_ until their fingers are interlaced, and it feels _so_ fucking good. They kiss like that for a while, Henry riding the slow burn of pleasure at Alex on top of him, all over him. He erupts in goosebumps at the thought of Alex _inside_ him. 

Alex must feel him shiver, because he pulls back, dropping his lips to Henry’s neck. “Is this okay?”

“Yes,” Henry says, squeezing Alex’s hands in his.

Alex mouths over his throat for a moment, then moves back entirely, sitting up and reaching for the bedside table. The loss of his body weight and heat sends another shiver down Henry’s spine.

“Baby,” Alex says quietly as he settles back in between Henry’s legs. He pours lube onto his fingers, eyes slowing raking up Henry’s whole body. Henry’s heart clenches. Alex leans down and touches his lips to Henry’s, soft and full of promise. At the same time, Henry feels Alex’s hand between his thighs. He lets his legs fall open, hitching his hips up, and he takes a deep breath to melt away the nervous, excited tension in his muscles.

At the first feel of Alex pressing fingers into him, Henry closes his eyes, trying to remember to keep breathing. He can tell Alex knows what he’s doing by the slow but intentional movements he’s making, by his free hand coming up to massage soothing circles at the base of Henry’s skull, by his mouth on Henry’s ear and the way he knows exactly when to use his lips to speak and when to kiss along the shell of Henry’s ear. Henry’s body accepts him easily, warm and pliant and relaxed, and soon Alex is playing around with different angles and depths while he takes Henry’s mouth in a kiss. Henry loves the triumphant look that crosses Alex’s face when he makes Henry moan or gasp, how hard Alex is working to figure out what makes Henry’s thighs clench and his back arch. He loves the contrast of Alex’s hand fucking him hard and fast with the sweet, tender kisses he lays across Henry’s collarbone. He gets so worked up that he almost wants to yield to the desire of his body, to give in and let Alex make him come like this and see what Alex looks like when he realizes what he’s done to him. Instead, he takes a deep, shaky breath and moves his hand to still Alex’s wrist with a small smile.

“Are you good?” Alex says, voice rough. Henry’s enchanted by the way his lower lip trembles when he takes in breath after shuddering breath, by the drips of sweat on his temples wetting his hair.

“I’m so good,” Henry tells him, taking Alex’s face between his hands and kissing him. Alex withdraws his hand and Henry can feel him fumbling around while they kiss, followed by a crinkling sound. He reaches down and smoothly takes the condom out of Alex’s hand, pulling back to rip it open with his teeth.

“Oh,” Alex says, looking a little dumbstruck and more than a little turned on.

“Let me,” Henry replies. He hasn’t actually touched Alex yet, and he wants to feel with his fingertips the smooth skin and ridges that will be inside him. Alex holds himself up on his elbows and watches Henry’s fingers trail down his abdomen. Henry watches Alex. When he takes Alex’s cock in his hand, Alex bites his lip with a groan and closes his eyes.

Henry leaves his fingers loose and circles the pad of his thumb over the head, pushing into the slit he feels. Alex’s entire body jerks, so he does it again, gratified by the physical response. He trails his fingertips down the shaft, resisting the urge to do more. That’s not what this is for. 

Alex’s face is a symphony of tiny grimaces, a clenched jaw, a peek of pink tongue flicking at the corner of his mouth. Henry rolls the condom on him, lips curving up as Alex’s eyes flutter open and catch on his. His mouth is open, quick, shallow breaths coming between his lips, and Henry leans up for a slow, languid kiss that leaves Alex moaning.

“Fuck me,” he whispers finally. Alex moves haphazardly to comply. Henry rolls up on his spine, wrapping his thighs around Alex’s ribcage, and Alex shakily gets himself in a good position. 

When Alex pushes slowly into him, Henry cants his hips upward impatiently, hungry for more, _now_. Alex groans and picks up a quick, sloppy rhythm; Henry meets him thrust for thrust, watching Alex unabashedly, delighting in the careful composure he usually sees quickly falling apart. Alex has made him feel so good, so warm, so cared for all fucking night. Henry is elated that he’s finally getting to do the same for him.

Henry’s body feels lit up from the inside out, buzzing like a live wire. Alex’s goddamn brow is furrowed again, concentrating like he’s writing up case law but instead he’s fucking into Henry hard and fast, his arms trembling from exertion or pleasure or both on either side of Henry’s face. Henry rolls with him, taking him in deep, and when Henry feels himself approaching the edge he reaches down to stroke himself with one hand. Alex moans when he sees it. He presses his mouth to Henry’s, open and slick, tonguing him messily. When Henry can’t focus enough to kiss anymore, Alex urges him along with his voice, lips catching on Henry’s jaw.

“Fuck, baby, you’re fucking beautiful, motherfucking _hell_ , you feel good like this.”

Henry groans while he pants, and Alex thrusts hard inside him, and all the tension in Henry’s body hurtles toward a single, fevered point inside him before pleasure floods his veins as he comes in his hand. His hips jerk, stuttered and uneven, and Alex’s hands find his hair, tangling up in it, and Henry turns his head and bites into the tender skin on Alex’s wrist. Alex stills; Henry can feel Alex’s legs trembling while he comes. He kisses the heel of Alex’s palm, the knob of his wrist, his pulse point, until Alex shifts carefully off of him to remove the condom and tie it off, tossing it to the side. 

Henry pulls Alex close, kissing him hard, and Alex meets him with the same intensity and desperation. Even after all that, Henry just wants more of him.

They kiss until Alex tears himself away, sucking in air. He holds Henry’s face in his hands, looking him deep in the eyes, not speaking, just breathing. The corner of Alex’s mouth quirks up in a smile. Henry reaches up to smooth out the crease in Alex’s forehead, rubs his thumbs against Alex’s temples and presses soft lips to that corner. Alex groans and tucks his face into Henry’s shoulder, flooding Henry’s chest with emotion that threatens to spill out of his throat. Henry threads shaky fingers through his hair and just holds him.

“I can’t believe I had myself so convinced that this could never happen,” Henry murmurs, finally breaking the silence.

“Biphobia strikes again,” Alex says cheekily. Henry smacks his arm as he chokes out a laugh.

—

“Alexander Claremont-Diaz.”

Henry squints into the sun, watching Alex cross the stage to receive his diploma. He can’t get the gigantic smile off his face; it’s mirrored on Alex’s, shaking the president’s hand. Once he’s on the other side of the stage, Alex turns and pumps his fist into the air. Henry can’t help himself. He screams.

When it’s over, Alex somehow finds him in the crowd like a beacon. Henry barely has time to see him coming before Alex jumps into his arms, wrapping his legs around Henry’s waist, and kisses him.

“Tall and sturdy. That’s a solid tree trunk build,” Nora observes. June smacks her before tugging on Alex’s arm.

“Can’t we all get a hug?”

“We’re so proud of you, baby,” Ellen interjects, Leo grinning at her side.

“All of us,” Oscar adds. “You fuckin’ crushed it, mijo.”

“Yeah, I fuckin’ did,” Alex replies. He finally shifts, coming down out of Henry’s arms, and accepts hugs from his family. Henry watches, the smile all over his face. Alex ends up back at his side and immediately laces their fingers together. 

“Can we get some food? I’m fucking starving.”

“Yes, your honor,” June says.

“Jumping the gun a bit, aren’t you?” Henry says and promptly experiences the familiar feeling of Alex slapping him upside the head.

“Definitely,” Nora replies at the same time June says, “I’m willing the future into existence.”

“We’ll meet you at the house,” Ellen says. “I’m barbecuing.”

“Sounds perfect. I can’t wait to take this off.” Alex tugs at his robes. Henry notices Nora raise her eyebrows at this, and silently thanks her for refraining from commenting.

As they split off to find their separate cars, Henry tugs on Alex’s hand.

“Hey. Come here. Short detour.”

“What?” Alex says, grinning up at him. Henry never gets tired of looking down to see it.

“Just come this way.” They walk across campus, hand-in-hand beneath the brilliant sunlight, until they reach a familiar building.

“You’re taking me to the library?” Alex says, one eyebrow quirked.

“Now that you’re graduating, we probably won’t come back together anytime soon,” Henry explains, pulling him inside and up the stairs. “I just...wanted to be here with you, one more time.”

“You’re a real fucking sap, you know that?” Alex says, but he looks pleased.

The library is silent and almost completely empty, spring semester having finished and the buzz of summer classes and conferences and admissions tours having yet to start. Henry shivers at the sudden shift from the heat of the pounding sun to the chill of air conditioning. Alex squeezes his hand once they get to the third floor, slowly making their way to the table by the window. Henry flings himself down in the chair he was in when it all started, and Alex sits across from him. They’re quiet for a moment. The late afternoon sun shines through the window, warming the space around them, dust particles glittering in the air. It feels peaceful, and Henry’s heart becomes heavy with nostalgia.

He pulls a Swiss army knife out of his pocket, peeking furtively around to make sure they’re alone. Alex gives him an incredulous look. 

“What exactly are you planning on doing with that, Fox?”

“This table is ours. I want to make sure everyone knows it.” Henry gives him a quick, lopsided grin, then flicks out the knife and starts carving into the old wood at the corner of the table.

ACD + HF

When he finishes, Alex’s eyes are on him, shimmering with some emotion that Henry can’t quite name. 

“There,” Henry says, tucking the knife back in his pocket. He reaches across the table and takes Alex’s hands in his. “Now it’s permanent. And when we’re old and married and telling our grandkids the story of how we met, they can come and see for themselves where it all started.”

“When we’re…” Alex’s eyes widen. “Wait a second, are you asking me to marry you?”

Panic rips through Henry’s chest. “I...it’s just a turn of phrase! I didn’t mean—I just—”

“It’s okay, Henry,” Alex says, snickering. “I know you wouldn’t be dumb enough to ask me without asking my parents for approval. And there’s no way my mom would keep it a secret from June, and June would definitely tell me. So, like, it’s not gonna be a surprise when it happens.”

“Are you saying…” Henry pauses to take a deep breath, reaching for courage. “Would you want me to ask you? Someday?”

“Let’s just focus on me passing the bar and you getting through your dissertation for now.”

“Oh,” Henry says, the anxiety of his skittering pulse turning, strangely, to disappointment. “Yes. Of course.”

“But,” Alex adds, leaning forward across the table, “yes, you idiot. Someday.” He presses a soft kiss to Henry’s lips, and Henry melts into his touch.

“Now who’s the sap?” Henry murmurs when they break apart.

“You’re rubbing off on me,” Alex says. Henry merely raises his eyebrows in response, and Alex kicks him under the table.

“That’s for later. If you’re lucky.”

“Honestly, I’m just lucky I got through law school without strangling Justin.”

Henry snorts. “That wasn’t luck. I seem to remember physically restraining you on more than one occasion, most recently at law prom.”

“What would I do without you?” Alex’s smile exudes sweetness and innocence. Henry can’t help but return it.

“You ready to go celebrate?”

They stand up with one last lingering look at the table, at their initials now etched in the wood forever. Then Henry takes Alex’s hand, and they walk back out into the bright sunshine together.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are amazing! I'm on tumblr: [omgcmere](https://omgcmere.tumblr.com/)


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